Finding Icarus (For Tyeb Mehta)
Icarus finds his wings again,
The falling, now paused, becomes flying again;
Beyond midnight, as the night turns to day,
Peace, finally settles on his brow again.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
The new day dawns again;
As the rain washes the tears and the world,
Mars red, burnt umber and parchment white fill the canvas again.